Clan MacLeod
by darklyndsea
Summary: When technology stops working, it doesn't take long for the new Clan MacLeod to start rebuilding.
1. Joe 1

Warnings (this chapter): depression, apocalypse, ableiest language

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><p>Seven days. That's all they get to prepare for the apocalypse.<p>

Maybe that sounds overly dramatic. After all, the world will still be there, and all the people on it. They even know about it in advance, so nobody's going to die when their plane loses all power. But all their electronics, everything that makes the modern world so modern—that's all going to be useless, fried by Earth's own electromagnetic field.

The science is out there for anybody who really wants to know. But there's only a week left before the apocalypse, and most people have better things to care about than science.

The Watchers are, fortunately, better-prepared for this than most other organizations. Until very recently, being out of contact for years at a stretch wasn't just common, it had been the norm, and even in the 21st century they weren't always able to remain in constant contact. Thank God for slow-moving bureaucracy; every Watcher still knows the traditional protocols for acting on their own, although they're sending out a refresher email just to be sure that nobody's forgotten anything since they went to the Academy. The Diaries are, of course, always written first on paper; they'll be safe from this disaster.

Joe's spending his last days of phone and internet making contact with the Watchers he's in charge of, making sure that they know where their nearest coworkers are. He may still nominally be in charge of North America, but from now on everybody's going to have to do a lot more for themselves.

Duncan, Amanda, and Adam have a plan. He doesn't know what it is, and normally that'd have him worried; he's seen their plans in the past. But this time? This time he'll trust them, without a single question. Adam ferreted away the Diaries with six days left until the apocalypse. Amanda brings large crates to the bar, where they're loaded onto a semi for Duncan to drive into the night.

All three of them act like the bar's a stop on the Underground Railroad, constantly bringing people in until sending them to their next destination. Joe recognizes some of them: people that at least one of the three likes, or at least doesn't hate outright.

Already, the city's mood is turning nasty. There's no food left in the stores, and often not much of anything else, either: whether it'll be useful, or somebody just wants one before there aren't any left, everything manufactured is a hot commodity. Once the transportation's gone, there won't be any way to survive in the city, and everybody there knows it.

The Immortals haven't tried to talk him into leaving; in fact, haven't said much to him at all, always busy with their plan. It makes him wonder: after all, they're taking all of their other friends and acquaintances out of the city, taking them away from all of this to protect them. But even Mac hasn't tried to talk him into leaving.

It's easy to fall into despair when the world's ending and you know it. And not only was the world ending, but Joe was all alone most of the time, with the Immortals having abandoned him to work on their plan and save others. Maybe he wasn't as good a friend to them as he'd thought, if they'd save casual acquaintances before him. Maybe they were doing the smart thing and not wasting their scarce resources on a cripple—what good would he be to them, anyway? Even if he could hobble around now, his legs wouldn't last forever, and somehow he didn't think that making things wheelchair accessible would be a priority, after the apocalypse.

Time slipped through his hands like water, as he devoted himself to what will no doubt be his last deeds on this world. He won't be there, not for anybody; the least he could do was make sure that his last actions would do somebody some good.

It was the last day before the Immortals finally come to tell him that they were leaving him behind. He should feel insulted that they thought that he was stupid enough that he hadn't caught on yet, but he couldn't manage to gather enough energy or ill-will to make the last words he speaks to his friends be harsh ones.

"Joe…" Amanda said. "We have to leave now if we don't want to have to walk part of the way."

Joe started to say something, but Duncan was faster than he was. "We've packed all of your belongings already, so all we need is you."

"And yes, I found your hiding place," Adam chimed in.

It took a moment for that to sink in. "I thought you were leaving me behind," he confessed.

"Why would you think that?" Duncan asked, genuine confusion in his voice.

"None of you have said more than two words to me this past week, about your plans or otherwise. You've been moving people through here like it's Grand Central, and haven't said word one to me about leaving. And with these legs…"

"Joe," Adam said, "you are more than just your legs. We didn't have to think twice about you coming, because you're our friend and because you're a valuable resource. We didn't say anything to you because we respect the work you've been doing, and thought that you already knew that you were coming."

It should be a crime to feel this good with the apocalypse less than 12 hours away, but what could go wrong, living in a post-apocalyptic community led by the three of them? He smiled and planted his legs and cane firmly on the ground. "All right, what are we waiting for?" They left the bar and didn't look back.


	2. Anne 1

Warnings (this chapter): apocalypse; possible appearance of OOC-ness (but I think she has reason to act this way); if you think too hard about this series vs. when canon events happened, your brain will hurt; fleeting religious speech

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><p>Anne should be at the hospital, she knew. The situation out there was sure to be bad and getting worse, and that meant that the hospitals needed every pair of hands they could get, before their ability to do much good went away. Sure, the medicine would still be good after the apocalypse, and many of the diagnostic methods didn't depend upon electronics, but how many of those medicines were made locally, without machines being involved in the process? It wouldn't be the dark ages, or even the 1800s, but still, doctors wouldn't be much good after their supplies were gone.<p>

But she could do good now, she knew that. She could save lives that were in danger _now_, not at some theoretical future time. But she felt frozen, unable to do anything, even leave the house for a few hours. She'd held Mary until she'd gotten bored and squirmed away to go and play, aware of what was happening but not yet old enough to be interested in "boring adult stuff" for long. But while Mary might not be having a problem (yet), Anne wasn't handling the news well. How could she? She didn't have the first idea of how to handle even the knowledge, much less the situation itself.

The phone rang, and she almost jumped at the sound. "Hello?" she said tentatively.

"Anne."

"Duncan!" she exclaimed, tears prickling at her eyes. "Oh, thank God. Thank God." There'd been a time in her life when she'd sworn that she'd never act like this, like a woman in a romance novel, dependent on a man for everything as if she couldn't do anything for herself. But already she couldn't handle the new world, and it wasn't even here yet. And Duncan was four hundred years old; he'd know what to do.

"Anne," he said, "I need you to calm down. It's not as bad as you think it is." He sounds so confident of that fact that she's pulled upright by the force of his voice, the tears drying on her cheeks. "We have a plan. Here's what I need you to do…


	3. Blair 1

Warnings (this chapter): neither I nor my beta reader is familiar with The Sentinel outside of fic (i.e., possible non-deliberate divergences from canon and OOC-ness); apocalypse; if you think too hard about this series vs. when canon events happened, your brain will hurt

Betad by It's a lonely world

Fandoms (this chapter): Highlander, The Sentinel

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><p>All of Major Crimes was at the loft, celebrating solving a big case and watching the game, when the game got interrupted for an "important bulletin". A groan went up from every person in the room.<p>

This announcement didn't waste time getting to the point. A visibly shaken group of men and women quickly delivered the news that the apocalypse would happen in only a week, not even trying to soften the news. What could they possibly say that would make it any easier? The room fell silent, making the sound of the unaware crowd on the TV sound surreal when the bulletin ended.

Eventually somebody turned the TV off. "Somebody please tell me that it's April Fools'," Simon said, knowing full well that it wasn't.

"We have to leave," Jim and Blair said simultaneously.

"Wait, why do you think that?" Blair asked Jim.

His brow furrowed. "Instinct," he said slowly. "You?"

"Instinct. And way too many theoretical discussions about the apocalypse." He tries to be his usual self and smile at that, but it feels plastic and slides right off of his face. He's still staring at the blank TV as if it's going to turn on and tell them that it was all a giant prank. He's in shock, he knows; it would be hard not to know the signs after everything that's happened these past few years.

"Okay," Simon says, and there's so much sheer _trust_ in his voice that Blair can feel tears prickling at his eyes. "We're leaving. When? Now? Should we do anything to prepare?"

"And where are we going?"

"Not now," Blair said, feeling it in his bones. "But while we can still drive."

"We'll need supplies," Jim added. "And people-not too many, but you can't leave your families behind."

They were all nodding in agreement now, eager to follow the lead of the only two who seemed to have any idea what to do.

"As for where…" Blair said, "…we'll know where."

They're united in this, but it feels less like they have a choice than it feels like their bodies are puppets of some higher power and they're just along for the ride.

"Simon," Jim said, turning to the Captain. "Here's what I need for you to get a hold of, as quickly as possible…" Next to him, Blair gave instructions to Rafe. It should have felt wrong to be depending on his instincts so much, but somehow it felt right, as if anything else was unthinkable.

Later, when their guests had departed with their instructions, they stared at each other until finally they could stand it no more and fell into each others' arms, desperate for the comfort of a human touch. It should have felt like a joke-the apocalypse, a week from now?-but somehow, they knew that it was real.

"Tomorrow-" Jim said, and stopped.

"Tomorrow's going to be a long day," Blair said.

"Supplies and-"

"And people." Blair's voice was quiet. Even after all this time, he still wanted to save everybody, but if there was one time when they couldn't save everybody, it was now. And every single person they saw tomorrow, they might be deciding whether they lived or died.

"You'll know who," Jim said. "Just…Chief, promise me you'll use your instincts." A slight nod into his shoulder was the only response he received.

They stayed in that position for hours before they finally drifted off to sleep.

In a way, it was easier than he'd thought that it would be. He'd always believed in following his instincts, but he'd never followed them so completely, so blindly, before. And he found that somehow, he knew exactly what to do at all times, without even a moment's hesitation. Blair didn't know where these overriding instincts came from. Maybe it was a Guide or Shaman thing. Maybe it was something that anybody could do if they allowed themselves to. Maybe he could only do it because the apocalypse was looming. He didn't know which it was, and if he didn't stop thinking about it now, he might never have the chance to find out.

It was easy to allow himself to follow his instincts, but it was draining. When he finally stumbled home each night, exhausted from convincing people and gathering supplies, he could hardly find the energy to eat. Jim wasn't in much better condition, but at least they were doing something, not just running in circles and panicking, like so many people around them.

In what seemed like no time at all, it was time to leave, and Jim and Blair and the people they'd gathered piled into trucks filled with what Blair could only think of as odds and ends. They hadn't packed much in the way of food, which would no doubt be their downfall if their instincts had led them wrong, and although he could see the use of some of the items they had packed, for many of them he couldn't. They had gotten more than a few strange looks for gathering them. But somehow, their…followers, for lack of a better word, had simply accepted their actions, however insane they might be. He and Jim might have known them for years, but few of them were the types to simply accept things without questioning, so it was a surprise that they didn't have to argue every time they turned around. Maybe it was a sign of the times: the world had gone mad, so their friends had too. Maybe Jim and Blair weren't the only ones whose instincts were in overdrive. Whatever the reason, Blair was glad for it. Normally, he liked a good argument as much as the next person, but these days had not been the right time for arguments.

As the trucks started to move, Blair curled into Jim's shoulder in his now-usual position, barely able to keep his eyes open. In the driver's seat, Megan glanced over at them but didn't say anything. Not that he thought that she would have normally, other than maybe some light teasing, but these days it was hard to imagine anybody speaking ill of seeking comfort, even in jest. Normally, she should have teased them lightly, then left it be, but these days it was hard to imagine anyone speaking ill of seeking comfort, even as a joke.

"You alright, Chief?" Jim asked sleepily, wrapping his arm around Blair.

"I left Sandy behind." Sandy, possibly his best student, and definitely his favorite. He knew he'd miss her, later, but it was like he'd overloaded his ability to feel, and right now he just felt numb.

"Sandy's strong," Jim said. "You know she'll do well. And if you had to leave her behind, maybe she's needed here."

"I know," Blair said. "But it might be the last time I see her alive, and I couldn't even let her know I was there because I didn't think I'd be able to keep myself from asking her to come with us. I didn't even say goodbye."

"It'll all work out in the end," Jim murmured into his hair, the last thing he heard before he dozed off.

Before they'd set out, not even Blair and Jim had known where they were going, not even a hint as to direction, just the utter certainty that they would know when they needed to know. Blair woke to find that Jim had navigated them south and it was as if his own instincts were a compass pointing in the same direction. It wasn't everyday, lowercase-i instinct, or even the version of that that Sentinels and Guides received. No, this was capital-I Instinct, the kind that he couldn't have ignored if he'd wanted to, and since it wasn't pushing him in a dozen different directions at once like his instinct to gather people and supplies had, it was even more powerful.

It was after dark now; the clock on the dashboard told him that there wasn't much time left. He could tell by the set of Megan's shoulders and the way that she kept looking at the clock that she wasn't as certain that they'd make it as he was.

"Here," he blurted out. "Stop here." The convoy pulled to a stop and, a few seconds later, all of the lights flickered out. Regardless of whether he and Jim were right, their journey was over.

They piled out of the trucks, stumbling on the ground that they were unable to see. Blair could hear people grumbling about getting led into the middle of nowhere with no food, no way to survive for longer than a few days. He wished he could say otherwise, but it was as if his instincts had vanished into thin air. This was what you were supposed to feel after an apocalypse, right? This pain and loss and inadequacy? And then…he looked up.

The stars…he'd never seen a sky with so many stars in it. He knew the effects of light pollution, of course, but he'd never seen a sky that was honestly free of light pollution. It was jaw-dropping, literally. Pictures hadn't done it justice. "The sky…" he said. The crowd fell silent as they looked up.

It took a while for him to notice the other lights, coming over a hill, coming closer to them. "Hello?" Jim called out.

"Have you called AAA yet, or do you need to use our phone?" a woman called back.

The crowd shifted, not entirely sure that it was a joke. What if they'd wound up at an Amish community or something, where they hadn't heard the news until it was too late?

"I think it's still too early for that joke," a man replied, his accent Scottish. The three had crossed the ground quickly, and were now close enough for Blair to see that each of them carried an oil lamp that looked like it had been made in the 1800s and only recently pressed back into service. The men wouldn't be out of place acting as bouncers, and he can tell that the woman's in good shape too; no wonder they were the ones sent to greet their unexpected guests, since they couldn't have expected a group of this size.

"Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod," the man with longer hair introduced himself.

"Adam Pierson…of the Clan MacLeod," the one with the nose said, a smile tugging at his mouth.

"That's right," the woman said. "I guess we really _are_ part of the Clan now. Amanda of the Clan MacLeod," she introduced herself.

Blair's inner anthropologist was jumping up and down, eager to talk about clan structures, but he shoved it away for now. "Blair Sandburg. Got room for a few more?"


End file.
